


The Angel from My Nightmare

by choirofangels



Series: tumblr prompts and requests [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic, Rimming, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choirofangels/pseuds/choirofangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a tumblr anon prompt:</p><p> <i>would you write a fic where in dean and cas had to share a bed in a motel room and they end up having first time everything? :)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Angel from My Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the best thing I've ever written, but in my defense I did it on the day Fake Your Death came out and so I was kind of a ridiculous mess, but I said I'd do this so dammit I'm doing this.
> 
> With that disclaimer over and done with; enjoy! 
> 
> (NB. Over half of this is porn to make up for the cheesy blink-182 title reference.)

Dean picks up his drink, brings it to his lips and tries not to show how exhausted he is. They've just finished a case and that last fight had almost taken it all out of him. If Cas hadn't saved him in time then, well, it doesn't bear thinking about.

He glances at Cas, sitting to his left. He's staring into space, taking an absent swig of his beer; it doesn't look like he's thinking any thoughts in particular. Dean sympathises.

To his right, Sam is chatting up some girl. Typical.

He and Cas sit in amicable silence for a while, drinking and watching other people. Dean glances up at the television; it's an episode of Dr. Sexy and – volume turned low or not – he has no idea what's going on. Some of his favourite characters are gone and there's so many new faces. He gives up trying to pay attention after a little while, figuring there's no fucking point.

'Dean,' Sam's voice cuts into the web of thoughts in his brain. ' _Dean_.' He bends down the impossible distance to where Dean is sitting, the giant ass moose-shaped motherfucker, asking 'can I have your room key? Chrissie wants to go somewhere more quiet and I figured you can bunk with Cas tonight. He doesn't sleep, anyway.'

On some level, Dean's kind of irritated. Sharing a bed with a stoic angel isn't really how he wanted this night to go, but he supposes if Cas doesn't sleep he can always sit in the lumpy chair in the corner of the room or something, and he isn't the kind of asshole brother that's going to cockblock Sam from getting a scrap of happiness when he can.

Dutifully, he hands over the room key, asks if Sam's done all the tests (he has: holy water in her drink, silver and iron coins for another round) and tells him to be safe because now is not the time for little Winchesters. Sam socks him on the shoulder with a smile and leaves. 

So Dean has a double bed all to himself, which would be fine, except when they get back to the apartment, uncharacteristically quiet Cas slumps down in the lumpy armchair and looks... Well...

He looks like shit, if Dean's honest. Run down, weak, tired and maybe even sad. Dean doesn't know how to deal with human sad never mind angel sad, but he does know one thing: all old women in the world are right, everything seems brighter in the morning.

He goes into the bathroom to change into his slacks and brush his teeth. 'Hey Cas?' he calls moments later, having made up his mind. 'Angels don't sleep, do they?'

'As a general rule, no,' Castiel replies tiredly, rubbing his face with his hands. 'We do not require sleep, much as we do not require sustenance or the removal of waste products.'

Dean sticks his head out of the door to look at him, pointing his toothbrush at him accusingly. 'But _can_ you sleep? Y'know, in the interests of science-' he disappears back into the bathroom before adding '-because I think you should try, dude.'

Castiel considers for a second, then explains 'I can sleep, I just _don't_.' He either sounds exhausted with Dean, or just exhausted in general.

'Like the whole food tastes like molecules thing?' Dean asks, except it takes a while for Castiel to work out what he said with a ball of toothpaste swirling around his mouth.

'Loosely, yes,' Castiel reluctantly agrees, chin resting on his palm, elbow balanced on the arm of the chair.

'Prove it,' Dean declares, making a beeline straight towards him. 'You're going to sleep tonight,' he tells the angel, taking him by the arm and forcefully dragging him across the room, bedwards. Castiel doesn't put up much of a fight, shrugging off his shoes and crawling between the covers.

It doesn't take very long for Dean to start slipping in and out of consciousness, sleep heavy in his limbs. He pays close attention to Castiel's breathing next to him, trying so hard to stay awake longer than he does, to prove that Castiel can sleep and so he should when he needs to. 

Right now Dean knows he's right, knows Cas needs this, except his breathing doesn't shallow, doesn't slow, doesn't change at all. 

The last thing Dean knows is that Castiel is still awake before he's thrown into the vast, empty darkness of sleep.

Dean is right about one thing, though. Castiel _is_ exhausted. He can't remember the last time he was this tired, the last time a fight took this much out of him. He'd saved Dean, but it had been a close call. Too close. 

The mattress and quilt are alien to him, he almost feels trapped but it's weirdly nice, warm and comforting. Castiel can understand why humans feel they are safe in these. The feeling of safety is instilled in humans from childhood; Castiel has only been in a few beds in his life, yet still he gets it.

He begins to drift, slowly at first, letting his vessel relax in ways it hasn't done for years. His thoughts become erratic, incomprehensible, exercising his knowledge of metaphysics and bending it, causing shapes and patterns to appear before his eyes. He'd startle, think he's going mad, but he's just so damn easy just to lie here and let his thoughts wash over him.

Time passes. Castiel isn't sure how long – thinks he might have even fallen asleep – when something stirs, making long, low and pained noises. He cracks his eyes open, there's a dark shape curled up next to him, twitching, noises coming from it turning into soft, quick, scared murmurs.

It's Dean.

Castiel doesn't know much about human nightmares, but he does know they often derive themselves from real life experiences, so – in the interests of privacy – he stays out of Dean's mind. Instead, he gently, tenderly, pulls Dean closer to himself. Dean shifts, moves to curl into Castiel further, still asleep but making softer noises now, less panicked, less scared.

They stay like that for a few moments, lying curled up next to each other, but their legs are jammed, their arms are twisted. It's awkward and painful, nothing of the comfort that, in this moment, teetering around unconsciousness, Castiel is so very desperate for. 

Two people can't slot together in the way they're trying to, so Castiel pulls him even closer, careful not to wake him, entwining their legs together, slipping an arm under Dean's neck so he can rest his head on the angel's chest. The angel strokes Dean's hair, shushing him and he stills, quieting, making a soft placated noise before slipping back into an easy sleep.

Dean doesn't wake up from the nightmare, but a little while later he stirs. Warm. It's so _warm_. He feels hot, heavy and there's sweat dripping down his back right above the hand curling into it. He keeps his eyes tight shut, trying to slip back to sleep-

Wait.

Hand curling into his back? He opens an eye, becoming more and more aware with every passing second of all his limbs, of how he's enveloped _in Cas_ , pressed close to him, one leg between the angel's, the other draped over his knee, one arm pressed between their chests, the other draped over Cas' side.

Their foreheads are pressed together. His cheek is resting on Cas' nose.

He realises, with belated hollow victory, that Cas is very asleep.

He doesn't know what to do. He should move, _has to move_ , before Cas wakes up and realises that Dean is basically coddling him in his sleep. He swears at himself until he's fully awake, berating his sleeping self for being such a fucking creeper.

Thing is, he's had feelings for Cas for a while now; he's interested in other guys, too, he supposes, but he's only ever been _into_ Cas. He's tried smothering it, repressing it, simply not thinking about it, one night he even tried to do flooding therapy on himself – thinking about it so much he'd get bored – but, needless to say, it didn't work.

In fact, it just made the problem about a thousand times worse because now all Dean wants to do is take the angel's stupid face and kiss him until he can't breathe.

In the dark, he's overwhelmed by thoughts like _if he tilts his lips now, if Cas tilts his head up, we'd be kissing_. They're so _close_ and suddenly the heat doesn't seem so bad, their bodies pressed into each other under the heavy quilt. Dean could even feign innocence, do his best to go back to sleep, wake up in the morning and shrug off being embarrassed for 'it's a human thing, Cas, don't worry about it'. 

He'd probably never forgive himself for how weird that is, but what's one more item on the list of things he'll never forgive himself for?

He shifts, just a little, just a touch-

Cas stirs.

Dean _freezes_.

When Cas opens his eyes, just slightly, moving back a fraction to stare at Dean with those baby blues so intense and wide, innocent and questioning, Dean has no idea what the fuck to do.

Cas catches him, knows Dean's awake and not moving away from him. Dean can't move, can't _think_ , doesn't register anything except the look in Cas' eyes and the red hot embarrassment slowly crawling up his cheeks.

Then Castiel pulls him in impossibly closer, holding Dean in his surprisingly strong arms. He makes a groggy noise of discontent when Dean tries to wriggle, wrapping his arms further around him, bringing a hand up to the back of Dean's head in a bid to get him to stop moving. 

Castiel inadvertently runs his fingers through Dean's hair, up the back of his neck. Dean's breath hitches, he can't help it and that – more than anything – is what pulls Castiel out of his slumber. Dean is looking _straight_ at him, blushing intensely, bottom lip worrying between his teeth. He isn't saying anything. Castiel has him pressed close, one hand in his hair, and Dean isn't trying to move anymore. He mutters a soft 'this okay?' and Dean nods incrementally, not sure what Cas means, really, but knows whatever it is, it's okay. 

It's okay because they're here, together, this moment so full of electricity and fire he can barely breathe.

Castiel closes the short distance between their lips and kisses him. The first is chaste, closed, a soft press of lips to the corner of his mouth, a test to see what Dean does. When he leans in for more, Castiel wraps his arms around Dean's neck and kisses him again, this time open-mouthed and passionate, lips soft, warm and wet where they slot together again and again, swallowing each other's half-moans and breathy gasps. Castiel kisses Dean's top lip as Dean kisses his bottom lip and they smile into each other's mouths, shifting as close as they can.

It's hot under the quilt, so fucking boiling and Dean is panting with the heat as much as anything else. He also kind of wants to move this along, his dick straining in his slacks, to see whether the angel wants to do anything more than kiss. So he breaks away to take his own shirt off, tearing it over his head and throwing it to the floor, moving straight back to Cas and assaulting his mouth with his own.

Cas trails a hand down his chest almost immediately, soft exploratory movements, fingertips pressing lightly into supple skin, down to his waist, across his stomach and back up to his collarbone, his neck, his shoulder-

Then he stops, gasping, feeling the familiar bumps of scarring on Dean's upper arm. He breaks away, just to look, and the scar has not fucking healed one bit, still angry and red and raw. 

'Does it hurt?' he whispers tentatively. Dean considers for a moment before shaking his head, a silent _no_ , struck dumb with the knowledge this is the first time the angel has seen the scar since he'd been given it.

Castiel slowly, gently, places his hand there, fingers aligning perfectly. There can be no doubt in anyone's mind as to the angel who had rescued Dean from Hell. He almost chokes; nowadays it doesn't occur to him often enough just what Cas had done for him, risked for him and given him. Without Castiel, Dean would still be- He'd be-

He's thrown out of his thoughts when Castiel leans over him, _licking_ the scar tissue, his tongue pressing flat over the palm, running the tip over the digits. Dean throws his head back and _moans_ , why the _fuck_ is that so sensitive? The sensation shoots straight to his dick, making it twitch against Cas' thigh. Castiel chuckles darkly, then does it again, making Dean bite his lip and keen, his hips rolling without permission, seeking friction, wanting _more_.

Castiel is still wearing his fucking tie, looking kind of like a hot businessman who wound up in his bed, so Dean tugs it off with a flurry of tensing limbs, pressing Cas down by his shoulder, widening the space between them for better access. His fingers make light work of the task at hand; he's tied so many ties to be so many different FBI agents it's second nature to him and he pulls it off, muttering 'damn it Cas if you don't hurry up taking your clothes off I'll tie you up with this and do it for you' and it makes Cas _groan_ , cock twitching against where Dean's thigh is pressed up into it, hard and heavy in his suit pants. _Fuck yeah_ , Dean thinks, too sleepy and in too much of a hurry to do it now, but _next time_ that's going to happen. 

He's trying to smother the residual panic down, he's never slept with a guy, isn't really sure what he's doing, the bundle of nerves raging in the pit of his stomach. It's soothed when Cas crawls on top of him, pinning him to the bed with both hands on his shoulders, kissing the life out of him. 

Dean moans into his mouth, bucking up into the contact as Cas kisses down his neck, hot kisses down his chest, breath ghosting over his nipples, making Dean push his hands into Castiel's hair, squeezing gently. They rock together for a little while, Dean clenching and releasing Castiel's hair, making the angel shiver and gasp above him. Dean's hands go to his neck, shoulder, trailing down to his stomach, movement to cup the angel in his pants aborted when Castiel shoves back onto his haunches, stomach muscles tightening under Dean's hands to lift himself up. 

Dean looks up at him, shirt open and slightly damp against his skin, sweat beading around his collarbones. He's so gorgeous it's _unholy_ (apart from the bit where it's the exact opposite). Castiel's fingers clasp around his waistband, tugging, and when Dean lifts up his pelvis a little Castiel pulls down his slacks and his boxers in one go, dick bobbing out and slapping against his stomach.

Castiel moans at the sight of him, face contorting into unbelievable awe, like Dean is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. The angel launches back into kissing him, a hand moving to tentatively stroke his cock, fingers light and teasing, wrapping loosely around him. Dean whispers curses against Castiel's lips, the angel chuckling in response, kissing him again, harder, more passionate, fingers tightening around him. Dean'll be damned (again) for ever, ever thinking Castiel wouldn't know what he's doing.

Castiel's full body of clothes presses against all of Dean's skin and even though it's so fucking good, a relief he didn't know he even needed, he wants more, wants to feel Castiel's body, his skin writhing against him. So he twists under what covers are still above them and manages to get Castiel's pants open, gasping and moaning when the angel's hand strokes the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock. He roughly shoves Castiel's pants and underwear to his knees, letting Cas kick them off while his hands fly to his shirt, half-ripping open the buttons and groaning when their hips twist, sliding their erections together.

Castiel uses both of his hands to push his shirt off, Dean growling at the lack of touch. The angel smirks at him in response before Dean's hand wraps around them both, bringing their cocks together and stroking. Castiel gasps, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth hanging open, pink and wet. It's a moment of weakness that takes Dean by surprise.

He rolls them over – knowing when to through experience rather than ability – and, despite Castiel's superior strength, he goes easily. He plants kisses down the angel's hot, pale skin, something stirring inside of him when he sees the flush diffusing down the angel's chest. He keeps going, lower and lower, Castiel writhing underneath him in anticipation. Dean shoots him a reassuring grin, green eyes bright and sparkling, before taking him into his mouth.

It doesn't taste like Dean had expected, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like it. More than anything, the salty taste of precome and sweat, it tastes completely like _Cas_. A small moan ripples in his throat, greedy and wanton. Castiel's hands are back in his hair, pulling and soothing like before only with infinitely more urgency. Dean can feel the angel harden in his mouth, feels the sweet throb on his tongue as his head bobs, sucking and hollowing his cheeks like he's seen in all the gay porn he'll deny ever watching. It makes Castiel yell his name, buck his hips up, and Dean pulls off – just for a second, just to breathe – before going back down, hearing a low, needy whine from somewhere above him. He pins Castiel's hips to the bed, sucking harder until the angel's hands leave his hair, grappling at the skin of his shoulders, trying half-heartedly to get his attention.

He pulls off and looks up. Castiel is lying back, open and unashamed, dick hard and two inches from his mouth. His eyes are almost black with lust, hair messed up even more than usual. It takes one, low, meaningful stare and a choked out ' _Dean?_ ' and he instinctively knows what Castiel is asking for. Dean thinks about it, isn't sure he was really prepared for this, but he wants it and if there's anyone he'll do this with, it's Cas.

'Yeah,' Dean agrees, finally, soft and quiet, excitement lacing his voice. Yes. Fuck yeah, okay.

Castiel pulls him up and they kiss again, lips and tongues sliding together. His hand slips down to Dean's ass and squeezes, smacking it gently before slipping between his cheeks to stroke at his puckered hole. His finger slides over it easily, the sweat gathered there acting like a lubricant. He strokes and teases, feels Dean clench and relax, moaning as he does.

The hunter is pinned onto his back as Castiel rolls them over – he's a fucking fast learner, Dean notes to himself with a smile – then he's rolled over onto his stomach between the angel's thighs. The warmth disappears when Castiel moves and Dean almost shivers with the lack of it, his mouth licking at Dean's back until he's hovering above the hunter's ass. 

There's a moment Dean knows he's given where he can say no, tell Cas he's changed his mind, that he's not ready, but he doesn't move, just cants his hips and rests his head on a pillow.

The first press of Castiel's tongue to his ass and he's shifting up, a surprised moan torn out of him, trying to get him closer. The angel spreads his cheeks, exhaling softly, then his tongue presses against Dean's hole. 

Dean just fucking _loses it_ ; why has nobody ever fucking done this to him before? His dick twitches, dripping precome onto the skewed sheets. Castiel licks him, opening him slightly with his tongue, breath heavy inside of him. He licks without abandon, without embarrassment, tongue teasing places in and around Dean's hole he didn't even know he fucking had. He wants more, knows he's being shameless, pushing his ass back into the angel's face.

'Lube,' he gasps, whimpering as Castiel stops to pay attention to him. 'There's lube in my bag, Cas. Please.'

Castiel scrambles over to the bag dumped at the side of the room, rifling through it before he finds a small tube of slippery liquid and – conscientious angel – brings a condom with him. Dean's stomach clenches with anticipation and anxiety, but he ignores it in favour of groaning ' _fuck Cas_ ' when the angel's tongue is licking him again, slipping inside of him and licking him open.

When Cas stops licking Dean breathes out, slowly, trying to relax for what's next. 

Despite being prepared, the first lubed up finger is a little bit of a shock. He whines with the little stretch, trying to relax around the intrusion as Castiel gradually but surely slips it all the way inside of him. Fucking Dean with one finger, he sits back to enjoy the view, the way Dean is shivering and panting before him, ass up high, hole flushing pink with exertion.

Castiel only adds another when he knows Dean is ready, half-finger first then completely when Dean grunts something like 'just do it, Cas'. He crooks them up, stroking inside of him, knowing where that spot is, right where Cas had left it when he'd remade Dean after he'd pulled him out of Hell, the perfect spot for Castiel's cock to press against.

He rubs gently against Dean's prostate and he cries out in surprise, bucking back onto Castiel's fingers instinctively, one hand coming up to grab the base of his dick – down boy – while he mutters a gravelly 'fuck'. A gentle assault against that spot and Dean is begging for a third finger, 'stretch me, Cas. Open me up for your cock, please, I _need it_ '.

The third finger stretches Dean and he hisses, the muscle around his hole red and lovingly used. It hurts, more than the others did, the pain taking longer to morph into pleasure. Dean knows Cas' cock is a lot bigger than three of his fingers and he starts to clench despite himself, even though he knows Cas'll stop if he asks, he's more vulnerable than he's ever been.

Castiel seems to be able to sense his hesitation, though, using his other hand to stroke Dean's back, to soothe him, whispering 'I've wanted to tell you you're beautiful for a very long time, Dean. I was in awe when I remade you, angry when I saw what Hell had done. I wondered how something so pure and breathtaking could ever have been destroyed, so I put all of myself into reshaping you, your body to fit your soul. I'm convinced it's the best thing I ever did.'

'You- _Remade me_?' Dean asks incredulously, still gasping and gritting his teeth at the pleasure-pain of the angel's fingers in his ass. Castiel makes an affirmative noise, comforting hand stroking across his lower back now.

'I know every inch of you, Dean, inside and out. The stretches, the curves, the soft and the rigid. Your skin, your bones, your soul. Still, it humbles me in a way nothing ever has before, nothing except the work of God.'

Processing as much as he can of that while he's on all-fours and nowhere near a bottle of whiskey, he figures what the Hell, because if Cas isn't gonna make this feel good, nobody is. 

Castiel's fingers lovingly, gently stroke against Dean's prostate, his dick hanging between his legs and throbbing for attention, it makes his body buck and writhe without his brain's permission and he moans again, except this time it comes out needy, pushing back onto Castiel's fingers.

When Castiel takes his fingers out of Dean to slip the condom on himself, Dean sighs and bites his lip, trying to relax. He hears the rip of paper, shift of rubber, Castiel's increased breathing as he puts it on himself, adds lubricant, then feels the angel shift into position, a hand guiding his dick-

When he pushes in and there are lights behind Dean's eyes.

There aren't _words_ for how this feels, not in English or Enochian or any fucking language. Dean is never going to have sex with anyone else in the same way again. There's no way two bodies could have fit together so well without angelic intervention, Castiel slipping into him slowly, so well, stretching him with an abated moan, pushing further and further until he's all the way, head of his cock pressing flush against Dean's prostate.

Dean whimpers, clenching around Cas, making the angel's breath hitch; he shifts, just incrementally, then pushes back in. Dean moans, mouth open, gasps choking out of him. When Castiel starts moving, shallow thrusts getting longer, harder, Dean pushes back onto him, meeting his hips and crying out for more. It's quick and intense and Dean wouldn't have it any other way, the long slide of Castiel's cock inside, so fucking close and wet and _perfect_.

'Touch yourself, Dean,' Castiel growls when his hips start to jerk, hands possessively clasping at his hips. Dean doesn't need telling twice, wrapping a hand around his dick and tugging in a way that's so fucking familiar, but with Cas inside of him feels different, so much better. 

Castiel is taking everything he knows about sex and blowing it out the water; all Dean wants is him, all he wants is Castiel and now he's _inside_ of him it's too much all at once and Dean is crying out, yelling as he comes harder than he ever has in his life, his dick swollen and throbbing in his hand.

He milks himself as much as he can, Castiel swelling inside of him, cock pushed so far inside of Dean, as far as it'll go. Dean feels the swell, the expulsion as he comes, shouting curses Dean doesn't even know above him.

They collapse in a wrecked mess of limbs, panting and sated. After they lie there for a while, Castiel shifts and pulls out, cock soft, pulling the condom off and throwing it into the trash can.

'Nice shot,' is the last thing Dean says, a smile on his face that's returned, before he falls into an easy, deep sleep, the angel sleeping half on top of him.

The next morning there's a loud banging on the door. They hurry to get dressed, Dean quickly pulling on his slacks and reaching for his gun. He answers topless, Castiel yelping quietly somewhere behind him since he's only half-dressed.

It's just Sam, though, as Dean thought, standing there disgruntled, hair in disarray.

'I didn't even get her number,' he grimaces. 'She's already gone.'

'Y'mean she beat you to taking a hike?' Dean laughs when Sam bitchfaces at him. 'Down in a minute Sammy, we'll meet you by the car,' he tells him, shutting the door in his nosy brother's face before he can ask any more questions about why Dean isn't dressed yet.

When he gets down to the car, Castiel is already there talking to Sam – sneaky bitch flew down, they'd left the room together, but Cas had disappeared as soon as Dean got in the elevator – and there's not a crease on him. Dean, on the other hand, looks like he's been dragged through a hedge backwards. If Sam notices, he doesn't say anything.

'Cas is riding shotgun today,' Dean tells him, ignoring Sam's continual bitchface. 'That way you can lie in the back and wonder where you went wrong,' he jokes. Being a big brother has its perks and one of them is the eternal right to be kind of an asshat, so long as you mean well.

Speeding along the highway, he can't help but glance at Cas every now and then, and the angel can't help glancing at him; they're all shy smiles and secretive eye twinkles. It's sickening, really, it is, especially going at eighty miles per hour, but it makes Dean happy – for now, maybe – the true happiness he hasn't felt since he was a kid, right now nothing if not completely in love with the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Comments very welcome; if you'd like drabbles and/or silly things written for you by yours truly, [my tumblr ask box is here](http://choir-of-angels.tumblr.com/ask) (anon is turned on so if you don't have tumblr that isn't a problem). 
> 
> On a personal note, I'll be moving house soon, so I may be a little slow on getting any more fic posted but I'll do my best.


End file.
